


Nothing Subtle Here

by tsukibeam



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Can you blame him, First Kiss, Fluff and Romance, M/M, Pining, nyx has a beautiful face and ass, prom thirsts after nyx, slowburn, the fluffiest promnyx this fandom has seen probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukibeam/pseuds/tsukibeam
Summary: “Tomato,” Noctis said again when Prompto only coughed out a weak what. “That’s what you look like--you sick or something?”Prompto cast a fleeting glance at the doors of the camera shop, where Noctis, languid and bored, had breezed through moments before. The door through which he had seen a uniformed Glaive, the source of his distracted thoughts, driving the Crown car, not Ignis.A Glaive...but not the one he hoped to see.Or,Prompto has a crush. He's not really subtle about it. Not that he wants to be--have you seen Nyx's ass??





	Nothing Subtle Here

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'll be the first to admit, my own thirst for Nyx knows no bounds. I've always wanted to write a fic with him and then...I listened to Bad Liar by Selena Gomez and, well, here we are. 
> 
> I hope this makes sense/has a point. Enjoy~

Prompto had seen Glaives before. Rarely. Enough times to mark one in particular.

It was thirst at first sight.

Probably just another day for Citadel personnel. Not so for Prompto who, even after three years of being the prince’s best friend, still wasn’t used to all the perks the position came with.

Like this guard with full lips fighting back a playful smirk as he did a routine bag check, pushing aside Prompto’s toiletries and camera, searching for something that could harm the prince. No such thing existed in his bag, of course, but the formality was still nerve wracking.

For once Prompto wasn’t worried, was barely paying attention, favoring instead the _perfect_ way the uniform hugged the guard--the _Glaive’s_ \--body, the woodsy smell that hovered around him, intoxicating and distracting.

“All clear,” the Glaive said, stepping away from the table to allow Prompto to grab his bag.

Prompto did so silently, biting his lip, not breaking his stare from the beautiful face before him. Noctis, who had shown up sometime in the middle of all this, had to yank Prompto away and it was a slight mercy that Prompto remembered how to maneuver his body, light headed as it had become.

“Are you aware that literally everyone in this palace is hot,” Prompto hissed at Noctis as the prince looped his arm through his.

Noctis looked pained. “Why do you think I moved out at sixteen?”

“I’m _so glad_ your apartment got flooded.”

Noctis looked like he could disagree--apparently this was chafing against his _royal chastity_ \--but said nothing. Prompto looked back behind him, before they rounded a corner, just in time to see the Glaive still at the checkpoint desk. Just in time catch the way the wink the Glaive sent him.

 _Oh_.

* * *

 

“Tomato,” Noctis said, leaning against the other side of the camera shop counter.

It took several seconds longer than it should have for Prompto to respond--one because his mind’s eye didn’t want to snap back to reality, and two because Noctis breathing a health food’s name just didn’t compute.

“Tomato,” Noctis said again when Prompto only coughed out a weak _what_. “That’s what you look like--you sick or something?”

Prompto cast a fleeting glance at the doors of the camera shop where Noctis, languid and bored, had breezed through moments before. The door through which he had seen a uniformed Glaive, the source of his distracted thoughts, driving the Crown car, not Ignis.

A Glaive...but not the one he hoped to see.

“ _Nope_ ,” Prompto coughed again and did his best to plaster on his normal, sunny smile but it still seemed painfully obvious. He pushed away thoughts of lips and hands to the back of his mind. “Totally fine.”

Doubt still graced Noctis’s face but only a for a moment; he made an offhand comment about grabbing a bite before heading to the arcade, clearly satisfied Prompto was at least up for that. And he was, now that his panicked rush was fading, to be replaced by disappointment now.

 

* * *

 

The thing was--Nyx was _Nyx_. That is, he was a near legendary Glaive on the verge of his own moniker--Hero--reaching public renown. Nyx was busy fighting in this overlong war, training to improve their chances for survival. Being a whole twelve years older and far more bad-ass than Prompto ever hoped for himself.

Scrappy photographers, fresh from high school and practically bleeding green, probably didn’t fall under Nyx’s radar often. Prompto was a kid, and he was called as such by Nyx whenever he was around.

Nyx was a hero. A helluva nice daydream that left him flustered and dazed and apparently tomato red because _honestly_. What would those lips feel like against his mouth, against his skin and stomach and hips?

 

* * *

 

Pages five and twelve of his Crownsguard application needed a signature, according to the email sent from human resources.

Which is how he ended up--after his regular work shift and a minor anxiety attack--wandering the Citadel halls, searching for the correct office, another wave of anxiety creeping over him the longer it took.

 _This_ part of the Citadel was foreign to him. The polished and austre corridors of the residential wing had always been intimidating, humbling, to him...but these corridors of the inner offices, gray and clinical, chilled him.

Best friend of the Crown Prince, future king of Lucis--that was an abstract concept, especially when Noctis looked like a grumpy kitten most mornings. It wasn’t his world but he was _allowed_ glimpses of it during certain times and--this is where that happened. Any scrutiny on his character occurred in these offices and, like, fuck.

So Prompto kept his head down, following the speckled linoleum, trying to keep out of the way of the scuffed boots shuffling around him.

This tactic--trying to blend in with the decor, sort of didn’t work when going around a corner though...which is how Prompto drove fore head first into a chest of silver and braided cord. It hurt; the button’s round edges didn’t exactly cushion the blow, neither did the rock hard muscle beneath the clothing.

(Though was that really a _bad_ thing?)

“You lost, kid?”

Prompto froze at the voice because of course--black braided cord over more black, _of course_.

Nyx had his usual smirk when Prompto dared a look, all confidence and humor shaping his full lips.

“Um,” Prompto tried but really, how could he stand a chance with Nyx literal inches away?

He could only blink up at the hero, at the ever present smirk and then--he breathed in, deep, until his lungs were full to bursting, too much, and he coughed.  _Choked_ , more like, while he felt his face grow warm. Tomato, Noctis had said, dammit.

“Fuck,” Nyx said and stepped a respectful (regrettable) foot back. “Sorry, just came from training. Haven’t showered yet.”

“‘S fine, totally,” Prompto finally managed, taking his own step back, mirroring the distance because that just seemed safest at this point.

It _was_ fine. Whatever Nyx thought he smelled like was far from bad. It was _inviting_ ; deep, masculine musk and a hint of something woodsy. Sweat, sure, from training, yeah.

Nyx leaned his strong body against the wall, propping an arm over his head and fucking smirked down at Prompto. Goddamn, that beautiful smirk. “So. His Highness’s chambers are upstairs, last I checked. What brings you here?”

The earlier choking gave Prompto a chance to clear his throat which gave also gave him about three seconds to get his shit together, wipe his dumb thoughts away and rally some sense of composure.

“Claire from human resources--needed some signatures,” he said. “For my Crownsguard application, I mean.”

The answer took Nyx by surprise by the looks of his raised brows.

“Crownsguard? You?”

“Hey, I can do it!” Noctis believed that--Gladio even conceded, and Ignis only sighed once when Prompto asked about the application process. But Nyx, thoughtful look across his face, suddenly had Prompto’s old doubts surfacing until--Nyx laughed.

“I wasn’t saying you can’t.” Nyx looked Prompto up and down, and shook his head. “You’re resourceful, I can tell. Would’ve made a great Glaive.”

 _Tomato_ , Noctis’s lazy voice stretched through his mind, as the silver of Nyx’s eyes pierced Prompto right to his core. It grew, spreading from his stomach to his fingertips and curling his toes, until he clenched his hands in an effort to keep them to himself.

Prompto couldn’t stay still though; the urge to touch, it was there, and he could resist it--he _had_ to resist it. But he still found himself leaning forward, back into Nyx’s space. The Glaive didn’t move, and his smirk and apparent amusement didn’t leave either. “You think so?”

“Definitely.” If Nyx didn’t stop looking at him like that, Prompto was going to melt into the floor. “I’d love to see what you can do. In training.”

Oh, Six. Yeah. Training. Where he could witness Nyx getting worked up, all out of breath, probably shirtless. Where he could be surrounded by Nyx and his intoxicating scent and twisting limbs...

“You trying to poach my recruits, Ulric?”

Immortal cockblock--Cor--appeared behind Prompto, voice alone enough to snap him out of his thoughts and to attention. He practically leapt from Nyx, almost straight into Cor himself, but the older man caughted Prompto by the shoulder and steadied him.

“No, sir,” Nyx replied, still watching Prompto, looking proud at the reaction coaxed from him. “Just lamenting the potential fun that was lost.”

“Not lost,” Prompto said “Still here. Any time.” He tried not to wobble at those lovely lips tilting up in a pleased smile.

Prompto could practically hear Cor roll his eyes but mercifully the Marshal only said, “Except now, Argentum. Come on, Claire’s office is this way.”

Back down the clinical halls, past frosted office windows and portraits of legendary ass-kickers...and Prompto could still feel Nyx watching him. Even as he was adding his missing signature to those application papers, he still flushed a light pink.

 

* * *

 

Prompto had a twin sized bed, right up against the wall, with a thin blanket spilling, tangled and twisted, to the floor. The sun didn’t touch it, the reach of dawn falling short by a few inches in the morning. A pile of stuffed animals, ranging from realistic otters acquired at the aquarium to fantastic Chocobos won in claw machines, tumbled at the head of the bed.

A twin sized bed, meant for a single person at a time-- _meant_ to, but lately feeling larger, especially when Prompto backed right up to the wall and stared at the empty space at his side. Someone else could easily slip in beside him, loop an arm around his shoulders and pull him in tight, chest to chest. Warm, solid, and with zero room to move away, create more space.

Nyx’s face and lately, his body, were appearing in Prompto’s mind more frequently, until the extra space seemed too much, until he needed to fill it with something.

His hand, small and pale against his dark sheets, only made the gap more prominent as he stretched it before him, as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the heat of a body. He would fall asleep like that, reaching for nothing, wondering and wondering.

 

* * *

 

Gulping breaths, slow and steady. Head down, eyes closed, and just breathe.

The ice pack hurt though, everyone in this locker room was too loud. His back hurt from sitting in this position for so long. His eye hurt but at least it wasn’t crusted with blood like his nose. His throbbing nose.

Breathe…

He didn’t notice the shadow that fell over him but he did hear the creek of the wooden bench and definitely felt the thump on his back from a large hand.

“This isn’t regret I’m seeing, is it?”

Prompto groaned. “You’re not supposed to see me like this.” He sure wasn’t turning away from the warm touch though, not as it began massaging his shoulder with quick, toe curling kneading.

How long had it been since he’d seen Nyx? Three months? Long enough for Prompto to start Crownsguard training anyway. He’d had training accidents before, of course, everyone did. Odds, however, said that Nyx was bound to witness the aftermath of one of them.

“No one’s a badass overnight,” Nyx said as he turned Prompto, gently, so he could start kneading his other shoulder.

Prompto was putty in those strong, warm hands, and he found himself melting into them as they worked out knots and tension. “Bet you were.”

Somewhere, in the depths of the locker room, a whistle sounded, followed by a, “Get a room, Nyx.”

Nyx chuckled as Prompto went rigid and leapt out of Nyx’s grasp but all the Glaive had to do was tighten his grip and push hard at a particularly large knot, making Prompto hiss and melt all over again. “Nah, I had an awkward phase, same as everyone.”

Indignation at being called out for his _awkward phase_ rose at the same time his curiosity did and Prompto found himself twisting around, meeting Nyx’s teasing smirk. “I need photographic evidence. Where’s your middle school yearbook?”

Nyx hands paused as something flashed across his features as quick as a blink. “Lost in ashes, most like.”

Nyx turned Prompto back around before he, wide eyed and faintly pink, could squeak out an apology. The massage resumed, digging fingers and hard presses, until Prompto almost dropped his ice pack, until his heart skipped in his chest and sent blood rushing in every inconvenient place it could find.

And then Nyx, damn him, leaned in so close Prompto could feel his stubble against his own cheeks. “Take some new pictures for me?”

Prompto’s responding nod came a little too eager, a little too jerky as he reminded himself to breathe again as he felt the tickle of Nyx’s breath against his neck.

“Make sure you get my good side.”

“As if you have a bad one.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you even know him?”

“The Dusk Wraith is the asshole who steers unsuspecting warriors from their destined paths and leads them to pain and death,” Prompto intoned as he blasted several shadow dogs into glowing red and black bits on the screen.

Noctis shoved him into the side of the couch with a socked foot. “Not in the game, I mean _Nyx_.”

The namedrop had more effect and Prompto’s thumbs slipped, making his character jerk violently to the side and then, tragically get pummeled to death. Noctis rolled his eyes at Prompto’s betrayed _dude_ and took the controller from him.

Although, it was a fair question, Prompto thought as he pouted beside Noctis, especially when the prince reiterated it.

“And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Noctis blasted away shadow dogs with more grace than Prompto.

He didn’t really want to know but, “How obvious is it?”

“There’s a bet in the Crownsguard, but only because the one on Gladio and Ignis finally ended. Guess they needed something new.”

Prompto groaned and let himself fall against Noctis, forehead pressed against forearm. Noctis pat Prompto for a few seconds before the game demanded the use of both hands again.

“He’s way out of my league.” Everything else that he should know about Nyx was alarmingly blank. Like, in his six month old crush, he should have at least figured out _something_.

“Nah, you just have to get to know him.”

“What do _you_ know about him?”

“Um.” Noctis’s body was tense as he fought the other shadow beasts. “He likes to save people? Like...half the Glaives are alive because Nyx did some stupid thing...in a battle--shit.” He rifled through his inventory to find a healing potion while the screen flashed red. “Also once, after some warp drills, I saw a Moogle keychain in his bag. He gave me a Look and I’ve been afraid of my life ever since.”

“We have a problem,” Prompto said gravely, “If he likes Moogles over Chocobos.”

“He’s also not that great a shot...Compared to some people.”

“Huh...”

 

* * *

 

Nyx was away a lot, deployed often enough that he kept a go-bag in his Citadel locker. Prompto’s seen it--thick black canvas holding the bare minimum of rations and one eternally forgotten pair of socks that never made it to the wash, among other things.

This is his first time, since the start of his own training and their clashing schedules, that Prompto saw Nyx prepare it.

Clothing rustled in the depths of the bag, something else clanked against Nyx’s bracelet, as the Glaive stuffed in more socks and swapped out some dirty boxers for clean ones. And added a particularly wicked looking knife.

Nyx was probably used to this--again, it was just another day of work, routine at this point, but a melancholy fell over Prompto as he watched from his bench on the other side of the locker room.

“Don’t you have an armory full of weapons,” Prompto asked, nodding at the knife.

Nyx’s responding smile was a little more business-like than Prompto would have liked. “Sometimes the old fashioned way is best for stealth.”

The locker room was strangely devoid of other people, despite the other Glaives having to gear up and it being late afternoon, when most training sessions ended. But there they were, Prompto sitting in front of his locker, Nyx stuffing his bag full, both staring at each other with crooked little smiles that seemed to hold more words than what was said.

He wanted to reach out, to brush Nyx’s hand so that it released the bag and took his own hand instead. He wanted to make Nyx promise not to do anything dumb, so they could keep having these random encounters, so that Prompto could learn about him...maybe, with what he learns, let someone win that stupid bet.

Instead he said, “It’s a shame, you’re missing my birthday.” Somehow it felt more significant than anything else could have said.

Nyx put down his bag, dropped down onto the bench, elbows on his knees, and nodded. “Big shame. Nineteen, right? Your last hurrah before you officially get old.”

Prompto’s ears went bright red for two reasons: the fact that Nyx knew his age and how he bumped Prompto’s knees with his own. The second was also responsible for the fluttering blooming in his stomach.

 _Ignore it. Bigger things happening now. Who says he’s even into you? Quick recover, he’s staring_ , “You’re one to talk. But I’ll save you a piece of cake. Iggy’s baking it.”

Nyx sighed, glanced first at the drooping bag beside him, then at Prompto’s wringing hands and finally, up at Prompto himself. “Sounds great...I don’t know when I’ll be back...”

A bit of Prompto’s heart twisted at that, at the way his statement hung between them, at how sober Nyx looks, no sign of his usual smirk. “Well. People keep their wedding cakes frozen for a year. I’ll make it work.”

Nyx’s lips twitched, but his voice was hushed. “You don’t have to.”

On that bench, a canvas bag beside them, Nyx’s yearning silver eyes boring into Prompto’s fervent violet ones, only a single thought ran through the space between them.

“Yes I do,” Prompto smiled, hoping it was bright and didn’t betray the dullness he actually felt. “Where’s your phone?”

The sky was clearer, the stars brighter, when Prompto left the Citadel that night, knowing that his number was stored in Nyx’s phone.

 

* * *

 

The first text was actually a picture, a wide expanse of the scorching Leide desert through the window of a transport vehicle. Beneath the golden image, a caption read, “Lonely road.”

Prompto reply was of his living room, silent in his parents’ absence, empty of their own personal touches. The opposite of Leide’s sun, the room was dark, begged for life. “Lonely house.”

Nyx’s absence was different from his parents’. For one, Nyx actually responded--not right away, not usually, and Prompto understood. Wars had to be actually fought, not ignored in favor for a silly meme. But the fact that, busy as Nyx was, Prompto still recieved a response…

Noctis noticed Prompto sliding glances at his phone but said nothing. Ignis sighed more than usual, a bit more pointedly, and Gladio straight up laughed in his face whenever Prompto fell on his ass in training, distracted.

Worth it, Prompto thought, when Nyx sent a handmade card signed by all the Glaives but saved a larger corner but his own private message:

 _Happy birthday, kid._   _Sorry I can’t be there. We’re kicking ass--gotta get back sooner, gotta see that smile of yours again. I won’t be able to use my phone from here but--Write to me soon?_

Prompto’s birthday party was almost delayed from his detour to purchase chocobo stationary and stamps but, again, _worth it_.

The empty space in his bed seemed a bit smaller as Nyx’s hastily scrawled words sat in the middle.

 

* * *

 

Official Kingsglaive reports detailed, in slightly exasperated tones, that Nyx Ulric liked to play hero, oftentimes disobeying orders in favor of performing dangerous stunts to achieve his goal.

Normally, Prompto wouldn’t complain, not when Nyx’s punishment was the reason for most of their run-ins: guard duty, usually. But his new position as Crownsguard granted him a few privileges--like access to those reports. His security clearance didn’t allow for him to read the full report but, between the redacted lines, he could get the gist.

It wasn’t pretty.

The report, black and white, so official and unyielding, was a stone in Prompto’s stomach, more firm than a simple slap. The birthday card felt hollow and just--why? If Nyx was going to throw it all away?

“You seriously dove head first off a cliff, into a swarm of daemons, took a _sword to the shoulder_ , and then warped  _back_ up the cliff face--all for, what?”

Prompto stood before Nyx, a piece of stupid chocolate cake on a paper plate in his hands, the icing sweating as it thawed from the freezer. The Kingsglaive training rooms were a hive of activity behind them but everyone’s gazes seemed pointedly at something else, anything else.

Nyx’s shoulders were squared, stiff, partly from his wound and partly because he had heard this same sort of questioning dozens of times. But his eyes--they weren’t hard like someone on the defense...they were soft, a pretty silver filled with both affection and sorrow.

Prompto’s own heckles lowered a bit, about two hundred percent sure that no one in his life had ever looked at him like that, not even Noctis when Prompto talked him through one of his low points. “Um…”

“I’ve been gone for a month and you’re going to scold me?” Nyx pat the bench next to him and Prompto sat even though he was somehow both frozen and warm. “Not even a smile.”

“I brought cake.” Prompto held it out, the paper plate bending in his grip and, because he could now, he produced two forks from his shared armory.

Nyx’s lips twitched and he took the offered fork. “Nice trick.”

Ignis’s cake was delicious, of course, as it was the day it was baked. Finger licking good, actually, and he _would_ have done that on his birthday if he wasn’t afraid of Ignis’s ice stare for bad manners. Gratitude, then, that Ignis wasn’t around _now_ flooded Prompto because Nyx was not subtle at all. He stared at Prompto as he took a bite and slowly licked the fork of all trace of the dessert.

“ _Dude_.” Prompto shifted and coughed, looked for a distraction and, maybe unwisely, went for, “so what happened?”

Nyx, his fork back in the cake, paused, and eyed Prompto briefly before looking out toward the training yard. He sighed, heavy, somehow distant, and said, “There was a kid, maybe five years old. We thought the town had been abandoned but--he was there, wrong place, right time. Innocent.”

The stone was back in Prompto stomach and he shifted again. “You saved him.”

Nyx was bitter, jaw hard, when he said, “No. It was already too late for him, damn Nifs, but...I got him somewhere quiet, at least.”

And they punished him for it, for disobeying orders. For being so reckless.

Hero--the name hadn’t come lightly. Prompto knew, without asking, that this wasn’t the first time he lost someone. It hung around Nyx like a cloak, thick and heavy. Well worn.

And maybe Prompto was playing with fire but one small thing Nyx said nagged him, so he asked, “The kid was from Niflheim...”

Nyx glared, though at nothing he could actually see. “The Emperor doesn’t care about his citizens, or who his army kills. I’d have done it for anyone, as long as they’re innocent. Doesn’t matter where they come from--Niflheim, Lucis, Accordo.”

Prompto picked at the edge of his wristband, wrapped a hand around it. “I don’t know where I come from.” The lie made his voice small.

“Shoulda been a Glaive. You would’ve fit right in.”

Prompto flushed. “I still have a chance. Crowe invited me out with you guys tonight.”

Nyx’s finally glanced over, looking more devious than Prompto liked. “Yeah? You know it’s a trap right? She’ll drink you right under the table. But...I hope you do come.

Oh, goddamnit. Prompto thought he was fine--they were having a heartfelt conversation--but apparently not, not with the way Nyx nudged his knees and offered a coy smile.

“Count me in,” Prompto smiled because how could he not? Maybe he was an idiot. Who cared.

“Ah,” Nyx said, his smile finally chipping away the tension in his body and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He raised a hand, a thumb, to Prompto’s face and brushed against his bottom lip. “There it is.”

 

* * *

 

“Damn,” Crowe said, about five drinks into the night, as she scrutinized Prompto and the arm Nyx had draped over his shoulders. “How did you, _Nyx Ulric_ , land someone so pretty.”

Nyx threw a vulgar gesture at Crowe.

“He’s hot,” Prompto shouted helpfully, feeling far more brave than normal. “Have you _seen_ his _ass_?”

“We’ve all the displeasure many times,” Libertus rolled his eyes. A thump sounded beneath the table, like someone kicked him.

“It’s _perfect_ ,” Prompto giggled. “I’ve wanted to jump him since the first time I met him.”

Nyx pulled Prompto in closer, so that they shared breathe; it was hot and sweet over Prompto’s ear and he shivered. “Oh yeah? What’s stopped you?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Nyx,” Crowe lolled her head back in mock disgust. “Get a fucking room already.”

“Yes!”

Drinks and plates alike clattered and almost toppled over as Prompto shot to his feet. He might have been a bit unsteady, wobbled just a bit, but he still managed to drag Nyx up as well. Still managed to slip his own arm around the Glaive’s waist and stir them through the hazy bar. Cheers and applause followed them out into the chill night and the sudden silence that came when door closed amplified his exhilaration.

Nighttime shadow looked sinful on Nyx, all caressing and luring against his dark features. It deepened his smile, sharpened the panes of his jawline--his _delicious_ looking jaw and neck and Prompto’s breathe hitched, his mouth going dry as he wondered what the supple skin beneath the leather jacket felt and tasted like.

Nyx caught Prompto as he stumbled into his solid form, hands drawing up so that his palms lay on the hard muscles of his chest, and he glanced up through his lashes.

“Why aren’t you kissing me,” Prompto whispered after a few seconds of staring deep into Nyx’s amused silver eyes.

“Because we’re drunk, babe,” Nyx replied, his hands finding Prompto’s. “Believe me I want to, though.”

Prompto pouted, need spreading through him the longer he stood against Nyx in this dingy alley and his body realized the cold. He shivered but Nyx lifted one of Prompto’s hands, turned it palm up, and brought his lips down in a sweet kiss.

“I want to take my time with you,” Nyx said, between little kisses that felt like fire, “Memorize every detail. No senses dulled. No injuries to get in our way.” He  placed Prompto’s hand over his right shoulder, where a patch of bandages were taped against it.

The whole world spun with Nyx’s promises; Prompto felt lightheaded and weak kneed, but he was gentle as he raised himself up on his toes and placed a light kiss of his own over the bandages.

 

* * *

 

Cold heavy metal, solid in his hands…

The smooth sound of his breath, steady and controlled…

Yards ahead of him, the target hung, bold black circles clear in his vision, blank…

Breathe. Relax. Focus.

Prompto checked the ammo clip one more time and raised the gun, narrowing on that target but a movement within the observation room stopped him before he could pull the trigger.

 _What the shit_.

Nyx stood, like he owned the place--like he hadn’t practically seduced Prompto a week before--with all the other Crownsguard officers. His uniform was gone, suggesting he was off duty and only came by _for the hell of it_. And, Six help him, Nyx’s short sleeve shirt and pants--black, of course--begged for the soft whisper of night shadow. Prompto gulped as his arms lowered slightly.

“Argentum!” Cor barked from within the observation room. “I know Ulric is pretty but focus!”

The heat that rushed through Prompto was on level with the goddamn sun as every officer, even Clarus Amicitia, chuckled.

Focus, right. Completely doable, especially when the object of _all_ of Prompto’s fantasties just walked into the room.

Focus, _right_ , when Nyx sent him a wink because he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Winked like it was Prompto’s ballet recital, not the middle of his shooting qualification.

Focus.

Yeah fucking right.

Working under pressure, though--isn’t that what Ignis warned him about when he asked about an application? Crownsguard and Kingsglaive alike faced high pressure stakes, threats of all sorts and...no way was Prompto about to be disqualified because he couldn’t handle a bit of lust.

He sent a glower at Nyx and then rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. When he raised his gun again, silver metal glinting in the fluorescent lights, it was just him and the target again. He took a few steadying breaths. And fired.

 

* * *

 

Prompto found Nyx outside of the locker room, proud smile and all.

He also found about half the Crownsguard shifting between duties, milling around the courtyard, trading gossip and _totally not_ eyeing the two. None of them mattered though, not with Prompto’s crisp new paper that certified him as an expert marksman and how Nyx sauntered up to him.

The flood of heat was back, flaring in his limbs and refusing to budge when Nyx placed his hands on his shoulders.

Prompto looked up at him, yearning a big part of that tingling heat, but he put on a pout as best he could. “ _Dude_ , that wasn’t fair. I could have totally failed.”

Nyx snorted. “You didn’t though. You were perfect. Put my score in the dust.”

Prompto’s pout turned into a coy smile. “You know, I can give you some pointers. Once your injury is healed, that is.”

“ _Speaking of_ ,” Nyx lifted a hand from Prompto’s shoulder and brushed his fingers over the skin there, up his collarbone, his neck, up to his chin. Every touch sent shivers through Prompto, right to his center, and lower. “Seeing as we’re both sober and I’ve just been cleared by medical...what do you say to a celebratory dinner?”

Dinner was cool, celebrating sounded fun--it sounded like a date? And, man, it was great Nyx was healed. All of that was _awesome_.

But being alone with Nyx and these touches, so gentle and breath stealing…

Someone was about to win a bet.

Prompto reached out and lay his hands flat on Nyx’s hard stomach, half to steady himself, and half to _feel_. “Kiss me first.”

Nyx’s silver eyes flashed and he bent his head down an inch. “Pretty sure that comes after dinner.”

“I mean, _yes_ , I will,” Prompto said as he raised himself onto his toes, as his hands slid up the smooth fabric of Nyx’s shirt. “But I need something to tide me over _now_.”

Nyx’s hands, rough and strong and warm, tipped Prompto’s chin upward. Their lips were inches apart--right _there_ \--but Nyx’s were spread in the biggest shit eating grin Prompto had ever seen on the Glaive. “I dunno, could ruin our appetite.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake--” Prompto pulled Nyx forward by his shirt and crashed their mouths together.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://tsukibeamfics.tumblr.com/)


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